A Rose in a Vase
by Kreskin
Summary: With Sephiroth defeated, Vincent awakens to a life without nightmares. The dreams he has instead leave him uncertain. Not your usual Vincent x Yuffie story, despite appearances. To be continued.


_The conflict for the fate of the world was over. Sephiroth died at our hands, and Meteor was averted. For that, you could call it a happy ending. Yet, I can't think of what else happened. A panic gripped us as we fled in the Highwind, but we experienced turbulence and started going down. I don't think we were going to make it. I'll admit to being a pessimist, however. What happened after that...? Where are we now? Did we survive? This feeling... it's almost as if I know I'm speaking to you._

"Vincent..."

_Is this a dream? No... my rest has been visited only by nightmares for as long as I can recall._

"Vincent."

_I know you're calling out to me, but I don't seem to be able to answer you. I could stay like this, alone, but the longing in your voice makes me pity you. As if you need me._

"Vincent, wake up!"

Soft, pale lips parted slowly, a glimpse of white showing. Yuffie Kisaragi found herself blushing... this was the second time she noticed those lips like this. This man who didn't speak often, and whose cloak obscured his face, had shown her a new side of himself through these recent circumstances. Now his mouth ws starting to open, and it looked like he was speaking.

"Am I sleeping?" asked the softspoken, strained voice of one Vincent Valentine.

Yuffie's eyes lit up, fixing upon the orifice as it ushered out words and hope. "Vincent! Can you hear me?"

Dark eyelids quivered, tensing before jerking gradually open at mechanical intervals. The enchanted, naive enthusiasm of the ninja girl at once faltered as the revelation of Vincent's piercing red eyes reminded her who this was. No longer the sleeping dark angel of her dreams. The attachment she'd made to him while he lay in this state was now suddenly rocked with confusion as she remembered who he _really_ was... creepy, stuffy, secretive old Vincent, who they'd dragged out of a coffin for cryptic advice and help fighting monsters perhaps less frightening than himself.

"Yuffie," he spoke quietly, eyes not taking long to focus on her. For the Van Winkle-esque sleeper that he was, he awoke easily, and spent very little time getting over the typical morning grogginess many experience. In other words, he was sharp at almost any time, except for when he managed to muddle himself down with thoughts and feelings.

"Don't 'Yuffie' me!" she snapped, not in her usual pushiness, but with a geniune hint of offense. "You had everyone really worried! Thought you were gonna die or somethin'..."

He started to sit up, the sensation of bedsheets shifting against his body giving him an idea of where he was. "Am I injured?" he asked calmly, finding it a bit tiresome to lift his torso halfway into a sit. His hand reached up to his head, hand ungloved, head unwrapped... no, his slender fingers found the white bandages wrapped around his head, his archaic red wrappings missing. The off-white sheets slid off his unclothed upper body, at which Yuffie glanced for a moment then looked away, crossing her arms over her stomach. Her protective gear wasn't present, though her clothes were her normal fare otherwise.

"You hit your head when the Highwind crashed," Yuffie explained, sounding rather controlled and bland compared to the normal drivel and profanity Vincent would expect of her. "You've been conked out for like, three days."

What Yuffie didn't say was how she had tried to catch him when it happened, and then carried him away when he was unconscious... and that seeing him vulnerable, bleeding, and with his mouth slightly open, made her empathize with him, and finally notice how attractive he was. She was thinking about all this, though, and she shuffled in her seat uncomfortably because of it. Her hands folded up and slipped between her legs as she lowered her head, giving a sudden undivided attention to the tip of her shoe.

His eyes lingered on hers, not paying attention to the fact that she was looking away. She, however, was fully aware of his eyes, forcing herself not to look at them. He brought his hand down slowly, looking around the room. "The others?"

"Everyone's okay. Red got kinda banged up. Hell, so did I, see?" She raised her arm, showing off a semi-healed gash running its way down the top of her forearm, turning to him with a childish grin, like this was something to be proud of.

"But none are seriously hurt?" he asked flatly, not humoring her 'boo-boo'.

"Hey!" she retorted, leaning forward and gritting those same teeth she'd smiled with two seconds ago. "I got this helping _you_, you jerk!"

His eyes strayed slightly downward, giving this a moment's thought. "I apologize, Yuffie. You shouldn't harm yourself for my sake."

A tick made her cheeks clench up towards her eyes briefly. "Well I did!" She lifted her chin and faked composure, crossing her arms. "Anyway, don't tell me what I shouldn't do, 'cause I'd still do it."

Glancing back to her, seeing her eyes closed and her attitude fixed for the moment, he reclined back onto the bed. The sound of his head meeting the pillow, cushioned though it was by black locks, snapped her eyes open.

"Still tired?" she asked, now sounding quiet and worried again. "Geez... you okay?"

He looked to her with the slightest turn of his head. "Something was amiss with my dreams."

"What, d'ja have nightmares?" She could potentially be making fun of it, yet there was a considerate sort of curiosity predominant in her tone for the moment.

He rolled his head, eyes hitting the ceiling. "No."

"Didn't you always have nightmares before?" she pried, pried at that old coffin lid to which she referred.

"That's correct."

"Then what the hell was wrong? I don't get it."

"Perhaps the end of the nightmares is a sign that everything is finally over." He didn't sound like someone who had found closure, or like someone who was looking for it.

"Yeah, I guess," Yuffie offered, scratching the back of her head. "Anyway, you're finally up, so I'll go getcha some food."

The girl quickly sprung to her feet and went out the door, making sure to close it behind her. He didn't get much of a look at what was beyond it, but he'd gathered that this was an inn of some kind. Looking over the room, he could see where his things had been assembled atop a dresser, red cloak hanging over the edge, handgun and rounds strewn about the deep brown surface. Wherever he was, it was clear that the world was in one piece. He hadn't doubted that in his sleep, though. Images of the Lifestream awakening and challenging the impending doom of Meteor were just now coming back to him, but even without these scenes in his mind's eye, he still knew they had happened.

Just... knew, somehow.

That wasn't the only thing he knew. To him, it was rather obvious what Yuffie had been doing. Watching over him, possibly feeling responsible for his injury, but moreover... he had been young once, and he'd been just like her. He could see right through her and her newfound attraction which she felt she was hiding.

"Heh. It's ironic," he said to himself in a strange amusement.

Of course, he didn't feel like he was attracted to her.

Right about then the door pushed open, Yuffie entering backwards and turning to reveal a tray of food in her hands. "I didn't know what you liked, so I brought ya what _I_ like!"

Vincent blinked and sat up, accepting the tray and studying the soup, noodles, and dumplings. "That was fast. This is Wutai food?"

She gave a hearty nod and resumed her seat by his bed, resting on the edge of her chair, eagerly watching. "Yeah, looks good, huh?"

His hand looked for a spoon or fork and found neither. "How do you propose I eat it?"

She stared at him dumbly for a second before pointing to the chopsticks on the far side of the tray. "Oh, yeah, you guys don't know anything. In Wutai we eat with these." She picked them up and held them to him, the two sticks still being in one piece.

Vincent took the tool and sized it up for a moment, hoisting it aloft to spear a dumpling and attempt to eat it thusly.

"You gotta break 'em first," she instructed just as he hammered the stick into the piece of food. It, predictably, fell off before he could get it to his mouth, and she shook her head sharply, sighing. "Here..."

Snap. She then took his wrist, getting a little chill from doing so, and fitted the sticks into his fingers. "Yeah, like a pencil," she encouraged with a girlish excitement, keeping her hand on his. Vincent took all this rather generally, simply trying to figure out how to use this utility rather than sharing her emotions. "And squeeze like that to pull 'em together, and pick stuff up."

He looked to her in acknowledgement, which made her blush. Then, being almost as much a dextrous individual as herself, he claimed up his prize in one fell swoop, taking a taste of it, chewing slowly and swallowing.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"It isn't bad."

"What! Isn't bad! This is way better than the food you guys eat!"

"Where are we, Yuffie?" he asked abruptly, setting down the half-eaten dumpling.

Her eyes widened and she looked to the window. It didn't offer much of a view, just some trees. "Rocket Town."

"Then the others brought me here...?"

She shook her head. "Just Cid and me."

Her narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. Of all of them, being tended to only by those two seemed odd.

"Y'know. Cid said he runs this town so we could keep you safe here."

Vincent lowered his head slowly. "Yuffie... I have no particular need for this food at this time."

"What? But you haven't eaten in days..."

He slid the tray off of his lap and then moved to sit over the side of the bed. "How long do you think it was, without food, in that cellar?"

Her brow knit with anger that she did her best to withhold. "But, I made it for you," she insisted, wanting all this to come together properly.

"I appreciate your kindness, but right now I have no interest." He looked to her from the corner of his eye, coldly and emptily saying "Leave me to be alone."

"FINE!" she barked, stomping to her feet and pivoting to exit. She spun around, tears beading up at the sides of her eyes, and snatched two dumplings in one swipe, shoving one in her mouth as she ran out the door, slamming it behind her.

Vincent stood with a faint sigh, or perhaps more of an exhale. Pacing a few steps around the room, he felt more disoriented than when he'd left his coffin. Black hair swished as his head turned, casting down a glance at the still-warm food. A smile emerged as he uttered the words, "The time where I would need this sort of care is forever past."

-----

Sleep came to the mysterious one again, and once more, the nightmares of which he so often spoke were not to be found. A lack of conflict, however, did not equate to peace. An unease that could not easily be shaken filled his mind. Was this any different than a nightmare? Dreams of the girl named Yuffie. Transparent dreams, perfect dreams. Vincent knew nothing was perfect. There was a time where his mind's eye saw a rose-tinted world, but he learned it could not be...

Images of an embrace within a field of flowing flowers, brilliant blue sky above, sweeping clouds, beating hearts. The images were the lyrics to a song he once sang, more years ago than he wished to remember.

_Calling out to me. Disrupting my sleep. Again and again... perhaps I'm not meant to lay to rest._

As he thought those words, his eyes came open. Darkness surrounded him, save for a rectangular patch of bluish gray upon his bed, cast by the window. In it, fingers...? The tip of her hand. There was Yuffie, arms folded and head resting sideways, peacefully asleep in a vigilant kneel from the floor. For once, her mouth looked small, and her eyes weren't shifty. Vincent arose at once, replacing his shirt, his cloak as well as his gun. Placing on his boots, his footsteps creaked more and more distantly until he was gone.

"This is the same town I've visited," he told himself, clawed digits coming to rest upon a tree, nails driving delicately into the bark. He cast his gaze skyward, where the moon held a waning form. "The stars are the same. What is it, then, that's different? What am I forgetting?"

At once, names came to him. Names and thoughts, feelings, worlds of lamentation. "Lucrecia. Hojo. ...Sephiroth."

His features tightened, eyes aglow in the dark of night as claws dragged across wood. How could he forget the names that ruled his nightmares? Was it all because of these dreams? These calling voices, trying to reach his heart?

"Vincent."

At once, he turned, an uncharacteristic surprise in his eyes. Merely Yuffie again, and yet it felt as if she were now more.

"You woke up again?"

"Again, it's you that wakes me," he replied.

The girl, sleepiness still in her eyes, stepped closer. "That tree piss you off?"

His gaze drew back to his hand, that brazen, hellish hand, which in his absent-mindedness had sliced gashes in the trunk.

"Sorry if I woke you up," she offered quietly, though it was a sacrifice on the part of her ego to be apologetic after what he'd said earlier.

"Your voice... pervades my dreams." He looked to her, having of course to angle his head down for sight of the diminuitive one's face.

She shrugged to him. "Well I wasn't sayin' weird stuff in your ear, if that's what you're trying to say."

That wasn't the answer he wanted. To be honest, his expectations were far beyond her, or anyone else for that matter.

"...Perhaps I should be questioning myself," he said at length.

"Huh?"

"Until just now I hadn't given thought to my sins, not since I awoke before."

"Vincent, don't say stuff like that."

He turned his back on her, briskly taking a few steps away. She was a hindrance to his train of thought at this point.

"Am I simply to forget? Was my soul trying to forget you?" he asked stressfully.

"I don't understand any of this," Yuffie remarked, again hoping for some kind of answer.

Vincent was silent.

"Vin... Vincent," she said softly, walking closer. "I know that... bad stuff happened to you, and you don't have to forget, but, you can still move on, right?"

Motionless, he answered. "That's not untrue."

"Huh? Then it's true, right?"

"There is still repentance to be made."

A wind stirred his hair and his cloak, though his body stopped the breeze from touching her. It could be heard in the trees, sighing and swishing. It blew leaves across the ground, skittering sounds playing into the soft midnight melody. The night was alive, the air its pulse. It seemed more alive than Vincent.

Yuffie took a hold of his cloak, tugging on it, her voice breaking its low volume. "Why, why do you have to say that! Vincent, why can't you be happy?"

He reached to her and gripped her wrist, pulling it free. He steadied the emotional girl and gazed into her eyes. "Why can't you? Why must your longing stir my dreams?"

The tight grip made her think it was his metal arm, but to her surprise it was his true hand that subdued her clutching. Her eyes widened, quivering before they met his again. The bloody ruthlessness in those eyes scared her now, more than when she first saw him, more than ever before.

"So cold..." She squinted her watery eyes shut and she raised her voice. "Vincent, why are you so cold!"

His gaze didn't change. By way of his silence, she knew this to be true, without having to pull herself together and peek. She was afraid to see those eyes unchanged, terrified of it.

He let go. Her arm lingered there for a moment before abruptly tugging back to her person. With an audible flutter of cloth, he turned his back on her. "I've had more than enough of this. Go away."

Her fists shook, eyes snapped open, shoulders rose. Her voice came out seething and violent. "**I... I hate you**!"

With that the ninja girl ran away from him, crushed and furious. Vincent didn't wish to hurt her, nor did he pity her for what had happened. He didn't give her much thought at all, other than the bewilderment of why his dreams were tainted with the girl's face and voice.

At that moment, something came to him.

"I remember now." He glanced up at the sky. He remembered why this moon was so familiar, as were these dreams. "Such a moon lit my way upon the eve of Lucrecia's rejection, and such dreams were my solace in those forgotten days."

That was it. These were the same dreams his heart would, at its wistful prime, show him, when he still considered himself alive. He'd forgotten them until now.


End file.
